Philadelphia Love Run

Tents set up before the race

The beginning of the race

I have run a few half marathons before, and a friend of mine had finished a 10k a few months ago and I thought it would be fun to run a half marathon together. I thought I had found the perfect race--it was in Philadelphia, and it was the inaugural run so the price was much cheaper than the New York half marathon. It was advertised as "the race that loves you back;" participants would get a technical shirt, a mug, and a huge medal. Additionally, there would be a party with beer, hot chocolate, and soft pretzels at the finish line. It was a good opportunity to visit my brother, who goes to school in Philadelphia, and run the race.

Of course neither of us prepared for the race at all. Another friend joined in, but being four years younger an an athelete, didn't do any training and managed to finish in one hour and fifty minutes. As for the two of us, I finished at about 3 hours, my worst time in racing history, and she finished at about 3 hours and 20 minutes.

This was absolutely not the race that loves you back. This is the race that pours ice water over you and then kicks you in the face 13.1 times. To be fair, it was my own fault for not training properly, and mother nature's fault for sending a torrential downpour. The race volunteers were great, and I do think it was well organized.

Nevertheless, this was the worst race that I have ever run, bad enough to make me completely forego distance running altogether. The race itself would have been okay, if not for the weather. Actually, it might have been really fun, if not for the weather. Nevertheless, this year we have had a really long winter, so on race day it was very cold. And it rained. It began as a mist, and turned into a complete downpour.

While I have always thought my endurance was good, my ability to tolerate cold is limited. Before the race, everyone was huddled underneath little tents that they had managed to set up. I deal very badly with the cold. My muscles tensed up, and almost right away I felt my IT band inflame. We ran through a park, and there were worms everywhere, mangled and trampled, and a few dead birds that had also been stepped on--a wing here, a beak there. The night before, I had looked up tips for running in the rain, and one had been to wear a garbage bag. I thought I wouldn't need that since I had a waterproof jacket. As it turns out, my jacket was NOT waterproof. Within the first hour, I was soaked from head to toe. With each step, water gushed out from my sneakers. It no longer made sense to avoid puddles. I'd try to wipe the water from my eyes, but my sleeves were so wet that it ended up making things worse.

I think my body started to shut down. I moved slower and slower. Several times I thought about quitting, and I'm not sure why I decided to stick it out. Maybe because I felt guilty since it had been my idea to do the race, and my two friends likely would finish--one because apparently half marathons without training are easy, the other simply because she never quits (she would probably cross the finish line, even if it had to be in an ambulance). In the end I finished, but I essentially hobbled across the finish line, drenched, cold and shivering. My hands were clutched together in an effort to keep warm--I could no longer feel my fingertips. At one point my friend who finished early sent a triumphant text message, and my hands shook so much that I could not even enter the passcode to unlock my phone. I had stopped drinking water and gatorade since I was so wet that I didn't want to drink anything--rainwater and who knows what else kept running into my mouth. In the end it was a mistake not to take some gatorade, since I became depleted of energy. At one point my mind flashed to a friend of mine who had gotten hypothermia during a race, and wondered if I too had hypothermia. She had said that medical aids asked her who the US President was, and her mind had been so far gone that she didn't know. I had thought to myself, at least I know the President is George Bush. But wait...no...it's a different guy. It took me a full 30 seconds to remember Obama's name. By then though, there was no first aid set up, and I really didn't have much choice but to force it through to the finish. My fingers had turned white. I felt like I was in some type of army training. The words from Game of Thrones kept echoing in my head, "the wall is so cold that you will never remember the feeling of being warm again." Classic first world problem--I think about the people who actually don't have proper shelter and may be forced to run around in the rain and the cold, and I really can't believe I paid $65 dollars to endure this experience.

I really do like distance running and the thrill of racing--but I guess it's only fun when you are running with the pack, instead of hobbling at the end. When I ran in Niagara Falls and Vienna it was so great. The last two, when my IT band hurt, even crossing the finish line didn't feel rewarding.

After crossing the finish line this time, I was handed a bag with some soggy soft pretzels, which I ate ravenously despite the salty goopy texture. My first friend had been waiting for us for an hour, but had been in good spirits and gotten interviewed. As soon as my last friend crossed the finish line, we hopped into a taxi and went home to huddle in front of a space heater. It seems the beer and chocolate party didn't really happen--maybe it did, but I was so cold that I just wanted to go home. The medal was very nice, though one person's medal broke when dropped. I broke my mug too, when I dropped my bag. Luckily one of my friends had two so I was able to take one of those. I had some spicy food which helped me warm up, and curled up on my air mattress and fell asleep. Of course when I woke up I felt like I had been hit by a car and my legs were screaming.

Next time I go back to Philly the only running I'll do is to Reading Terminal, which has really good food. I had a Philly cheesesteak there and fresh squeezed orange juice, which was the highlight of my trip.